The Dreams We Find in Life
by lizook
Summary: Not for the first time, she wondered why they were sitting outside at nine a.m. on Christmas morning.


**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future; B&B are in an established relationship.

**A/N**: I can't seem to stay away from holiday pieces. Thanks to **space77** for suggesting I write one set after last year's "The Dreams We Tend to Seek". Also, much appreciation to her, **cupcakebean**, and **SSJL** for holding my hand regarding the concept of this one.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, still not mine. Title taken from Trans-Siberian Orchestra's _Promises to Keep_.

* * *

She pulled her coat tighter as the wind picked up. It couldn't be warmer than thirty degrees and, not for the first time, she wondered why they were sitting outside at nine a.m. on Christmas morning.

"Hockey skates were the right call, Bones." His hand settled on the curve of her waist, tugging her closer to him. "I don't think we're ever going to be able to drag him off the pond."   She smiled, watching as Parker sped over the ice, chasing the puck from one end to the other, his new Graf skates glinting in the sun. "Yes, so much so that I barely had time to grab my jacket and your gift before following you out here."

"His enthusiasm is infectious, but," he turned, lips brushing over her forehead, "maybe we should've stayed at the house... enjoyed the time alone...."

"Booth!" She shoved his shoulder before settling against him again, grinning. "There will be time for that later."

"Promise?"

"Oh, definitely."

A gust of wind swept over them and he moved his arm from around her waist, laughing as she raised her eyebrow at the loss of his warmth. He dug in his coat pocket for several minutes, much longer than necessary, enjoying the soft smile now lighting her face - she knew what he was up to - before handing her a long, thin box.

"Merry Christmas, Bones."

She squeezed his fingers and then, just to torment him, slowly peeled off the paper.

"How did you..." She squinted at the tickets, making sure they said what she thought they said. "I didn't even know there were Clara Bow film festivals. I'm aware of several silent film festivals, but I never..."

"It took a lot of research and it _is_ in Toronto, but," he held up a hand halting the protest she was about launch, "we've been solving murders for ten years, Bones, we can take four days off."

"I'll have to talk to Cam..."

"Already taken care of; the hotel and flights are booked... you just have to pack a suitcase and enjoy it." He smiled at charmingly, as if to dare her to try and argue and she was surprised to realize she couldn't.

With any other man, she would've been irritated by the assumption, but... she trusted him. It made her feel cared for.

_Loved_.

"It sounds wonderful," she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, "thank you."

"You're welcome." He leaned in closer, adjusting her scarf, brushing against her birthstone on the family necklace he'd given her the previous Christmas, before cupping her check.

"I, uh, have something for you, too." She met his eyes and bit her lip as her hand closed on the box in her pocket. She could do this;_ he _would understand.

He tilted his head towards her confused by her hesitancy; she was never nervous. "I'm sure I'll love it."   She nodded and, unable to say any more, handed him the small box. The gold paper fluttered to the ground, lying forgotten on the snow as he lifted the lid.

"Bones?" He gulped, eyes raking over the bold silver band nestled in the velvet.

It matched her mother's ring.

The band was wider, the scroll work actually etched into the metal instead of serving as the setting for the dark stones that formed hers... it wasn't an exact replica, but it clearly matched.

He could barely move his gaze from the gift, but he finally managed it, eyebrow raising as she took a deep breath, her cheeks coloring slightly.

"I know anthropologically it's an assertion of ownership, but... you've never pressured me and I just wanted..." she paused, inhaling deeply once more as she laced their fingers together, "you realize, it's common in many cultures to give a loved one a symbolic piece of jewelry to wear and... you're my loved one, Booth. My family. Always will be."

Stunned, he caressed her hand, his breath hitching when he recognized her own ring nestled beneath his palm. It felt so right, but he _had _to ask - know - because once it went on there was no way it was coming off. "Are you sure? You _know_ I'm going to wear this on my left hand."

Sighing, she scooted closer to him on the bench, her eyes lingering on their joined hands before lifting to look out at the ice where Parker continued to play. He skated closer, waved to them, and took off again, nearly falling over a wayward branch on the ice. She laughed and turned back to Booth, his mouth tipping up as she looked back at the box clutched in his hand and grinned. "With you? Positive."

"Ok." He tugged off his gloves and slid the ring on, marveling at how unbelievably perfect it felt, how much it meant for her to do this... "You know," he wrapped his arm around her waist again, pressing his lips to her temple before she settled against his chest, "it's ok, I like being marked, er… loved... by you."

"Good, I'll do some more... _marking_..." she ran her fingers over the ring resting on his hand, "later tonight."


End file.
